


My Blood

by fletchfeathers



Series: Don't Be Afraid (You're Already Dead) [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Orsus, Other, i just wanna write thieves' guild stuff LET ME LIVE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 09:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15883503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fletchfeathers/pseuds/fletchfeathers
Summary: He has a name to them now, a name that isn't just "kid". A name they chose for him, a name to set him apart. And he loves it, can barely believe it’s possible to love something as simple as a name so much.“Well then, Talon,” says Boss, digging into his back pocket. “Allow me to welcome you to the family.”





	My Blood

**Author's Note:**

> i've been writing just some little snippets from talon's past because I think that's fun i guess! yay! (also, i really wanna flesh out some things about the not-quite-thieves'-guild talon grew up in, so. that's my story and i'm sticking to it)

_Talon._

He tests the name, lets it settle in his mouth. The older human - the one he only knows as Boss - watches him, bemused.

“What do you think, kid?” Boss asks. His voice is rough but warm; it reminds him of the rough spun wool blankets the servants had at home, the ones he used to bundle himself into when his father's wrath grew too fierce.

“I like it,” Talon says.

“So do I,” Boss replies thoughtfully. “A good new name for our scrappy little crow. Suits you better than your old one, that’s for sure.”

A shy smile blooms across Talon's face, and he might be embarrassed at himself if the pride swelling in his chest wasn't already taking hold. He has a _name_ to them now, a name that isn't just "kid". A name they chose for him, a name to set him apart. And he loves it, can barely believe it’s possible to love something as simple as a name so much.

“Well then, Talon,” says Boss, digging into his back pocket. “Allow me to welcome you to the family.”

He offers a large, calloused hand out to Talon, and in it is a bracelet - an almost impossibly delicate thing, in comparison to Boss; it looks as though Boss could just as easily crush it to dust - comprised of three thin, black leather straps. It's the middle strap that immediately catches Talon's attention, though: attached to the band with two silver beads is a single sleek, black feather.

“Well, don’t just stare at it,” Boss prompts him. “It’s yours now. Try it on.”

And Talon's hands are _shaking_ as he reaches for it, at the enormity of what this represents; but he takes it, and slips onto one bony wrist. It hangs a little loose, but Talon's cheeks are already hurting from how wide his smile is.

Talon has seen the corvid feathers his new family wears - not necessarily as bracelets; some wear them as earrings, some on necklaces. Some have feather emblems woven into their clothes or even tattooed into their skin, like Boss.

In the year since he arrived, all Talon's wanted is a feather of his own.

“You'll grow into it,” Boss smirks. “Wear it with pride, Talon. You may as well be wearing a key to every city in Verisia.”

Talon nods mutely, holding up his arm to admire the bracelet. The dark strands of the raven’s feather reflect the warm, orange light of the torches mounted on the walls, and Talon marvels at the intricacy, the texture and detail of it. It's perfect, he thinks.

He feels Boss' cool gray gaze on him, and chances a glance up at the older man; but Boss isn't looking at him. It almost seems like Boss is looking through him, at some point just past Talon's head, his gaze distant and unfocussed. Talon cocks his head just a little.

“What are you thinking about?” Talon asks, and Boss seems to snap out of it.

“That bracelet,” Boss admits. “I've had it for years, now. It seems strange to finally pass it on.”

There's a beat of silence as Talon furrows his brows.

“It was yours?”

“Not quite,” Boss says. “But it's … a family heirloom, let’s say.”

Talon nods, but the curiosity bubbling inside him pushes the question forward before he can stop himself.

“Whose was it before?”

Boss hesitates. Talon can see the discomfort on his face, and feels his own stomach start to churn at the thought of maybe having angered him - but then he softens, turns his gaze to the map of The Sticks emblazoned across the wall.

“My sister's,” he says, softer than Talon’s ever heard him speak. “Your mother's.”

Talon's eyes grow wide as the revelation hits him, glancing from Boss to the bracelet and back again - but as he opens his mouth to speak, Boss holds up a hand to silence him.

“I'll tell you how I got it,” he says, “and then I'd appreciate it if you don't ask again.”

Talon nods, hopping up to sit on Boss’ desk, and Boss pulls up his chair.

“Helena – well, Jackdaw, we called her - was one of the best we ever had,” he begins. “Quick as a whip, she was. We started this life when we were barely older than you are now, and she took to it like a pig in shit. She got us into plenty of trouble, alright.” Boss lets out a quick hiss of laughter, shaking his head. “But she always got us right back out of it before too long.”

Boss considers Talon for a moment, searches out his sister's silver eyes in his sharp, pale face. He sees so much of her in him, sometimes – when he laughs, when he scraps with the other boys, when he tries to grin and joke his way out of trouble. It’s almost enough for Boss to forget that, at the end of the day, he bears the most striking resemblance to his father.

“But she quit,” he says, and the words hang heavy with regret, “because I told her to.”

“Why?”

“She found a job. It was meant to pay her well – better than this, anyway - so she could get us both out of this life one day. Thieving ... y’know, it's not something you want to do forever. We never did this for fun.”

“What was the job?”

“Don't interrupt,” Boss growls, and Talon obediently falls quiet. Boss takes a deep breath in, steadies himself.

“The job was with a high elf.”

He doesn’t look at Talon, but he senses how Talon stiffens, the ripple of anger and desperate sadness that rolls off the young half-elf.

“My dad,” Talon murmurs.

“Your dad,” Boss confirms, his voice harder now, as though it’s difficult for him to say the words out loud. “Bastard that he was. She was only meant to be one of his servants, just to pick up some gold, and you know what happened next. But I encouraged her to go, and now … well.”

Talon stares at his lap, and when Boss looks up at him again, he can see that Talon's hands are trembling.

“I kept the bracelet, though,” Boss says quietly, “just in case she ever came home.”

Talon stays quiet, blinking rapidly, and Boss gently musses the boy’s dark, shaggy hair. It’s grown a lot since Talon first arrived, starting to graze the bottom of his neck, though the tips of his slightly pointed ears still peek through. He’d offered to cut it once, and Talon had adamantly refused – understandably, Boss figures, since it makes him harder to recognize to anyone on the lookout for a clean-cut noble’s son.

“So,” Boss says, clearing his throat, “Now you know.”

Talon looks up at him, and Boss sees tears glittering along his eyelashes in the split second before Talon fiercely swipes them away.

“Hey,” Boss says, “No time for that, now. Gold’s not gonna steal itself. Besides, it’s time you did a real job, now you’re one of us. Tails will have work for you, if you go talk to her.”

Talon manages a weak smile at that, and Boss pats his shoulder maybe a little too hard as Talon slips down off the desk.

“And hey,” Boss says, waiting for Talon to turn back to him, and grins. “Go make our Jackdaw proud.”

Talon’s expression sets with determination as he nods, turning to head back towards the den’s common room, and Boss feels a strange sense of relief and pride as he watches the young half-elf walk away.

Maybe Talon’s more like her than he thought, after all.


End file.
